


guys' night in

by akgerhardt



Category: Homestuck
Genre: I couldn't think of a good title, M/M, back at it again with the niche content, because i'm apparently a vanilla mfer despite esoteric fetishes, crack and somehow fluff, food kink gone pear-shaped, sad horse is bestowed one (1) dorite, so i borrowed that oldass youtube gem, tbh i only like writing stuffing when it's Healthy and Comfortable, this shit is mild and tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akgerhardt/pseuds/akgerhardt
Summary: two houses, alike in dumbassery
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	guys' night in

He doesn't realize that you're home, just dropping his bag and keys by the door before trudging over to the couch and faceplanting onto it. You give him a minute.

"... Must've been a real doozy."

He jolts, then relaxes.

"Mother _fuck,_ don't do that…" 

"Sorry," you laugh sheepishly.

"Thought you had shenanigans to attend to."

"Indeed I did! Hijinks and tomfoolery as well. But I finished up early." 

His apex sniffer detects the aromas wafting from the kitchen where you're puttering around. He lifts his head, raising a brow.

"Yeah? And what, decided to cook a wholeass meal?"

"Correctamundo! It's a new recipe, courtesy of the gals. Snagged ingredients from the greenhouse in exchange for lugging some compost over. You ought to see her floral aisles!"

"... You spoil me. Don't deserve all this pampering."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong! I'll have you know that you shower me in TLC on the daily. Believe it or not, this is a two-way street, pal! It's long past time that you get your just _desserts."_

...

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that I had therapy today." 

"... Maybe so, maybe not. That's beside the point!"

He hums, getting comfortable and watching the sunset while you finish up. 

"I love you. Unrelated to the impromptu catering."

"Love you too, pumpernickel… Is water ok, or… ?"

"Water's fine. Tryna break the habit." 

You fetch him a glass and assemble the offerings on an upside-down crate lid, since neither of you are classy enough to invest in things like trays. He sits up with a tired groan, then inspects the dish.

"Thank you… Holy shit." 

It's not worthy of Bintrest, but you tried to make it look more appetizing with cheeto crumbles and a single dorito garnish. He snorts at that and goes to yoink it, but you swat his hand away. 

"Ah ah! You haven't gotten cleaned up but you're plum tuckered out, so the sensible proposal is for _me_ to feed you."

He just gives you a wry smirk, then swings his feet off the cushion so you can join him. You smooch him and snuggle up at his side, promptly presenting the chip. He leans forward a bit to snuffle it with his lips like a horse before taking it from you. 

"Fuckin' gourmet cuisine... Remind me to leave a five star review. Now, what in the fresh hell _is_ this?"

…

"I think a sort of… ratatouille?"

"That's not… I honestly can't tell if you're messing with me," he laughs. "Because we both know damn well that ratatouille is, like, four vegetables and prepared exclusively by rats." 

"Yeah, I forget what dear Little Janie said it was."

"Did she give you one of those fancy recipe cards?"

"... I glanced over _a_ card while I was there... I gleaned the gist of the process firsthand, and you've got to use intuition in these endeavors, anyway."

"Shakin' my head, dude."

"Bug off."

"Could've texted her."

...

"Everyone's clever in hindsight," you mutter.

"... Smells good."

"Gracias~ Now, would you be so kind and brave as to sample the product of my toiling?"

"That's a soft "no." Appreciate the gesture, though."

"Oh, can it. It's at least edible." 

"Just yankin' your chain; my standards are subterranean... Besides, everything you make is lightyears above seaweed and stale soda soup."

You grimace, remembering his descriptive accounts of various depression-slash-struggle meals. The man did what he had to, but eugh…

"... So, should I beg or something? Is that part of the kink for you? _Spare cheeto, sir?"_

"Christ, no! … Sorry, I was just recalling your traumatic past." 

"All good." 

You jab the fork into it unceremoniously and offer it to him.

"Bone app the teeth!"

"Osteoporosis."

You raise it to his mouth, and he just sticks his tongue on it thoughtfully before taking the forkful and seagulling it whole, then coughing, thumping his chest, and taking a long swig of water to get it down.

…

"Sorry; instincts."

"That- That's alright. Want to try again?"

"I'll be emotionally prepared this time."

You hold up another, and he nibbles at it gingerly, then pulls it into his mouth at an excruciatingly slow pace that would make most people uncomfortable.

He actually chews it, but that goes on for an extended period of time as well, spliced with drawn-out suggestive noises. Finally, he swallows, proceeding to lock eyes and lick his lips. 

"Underestimated your prowess~"

"... So it _is_ palatable!"

"Fuck yeah it is. Savory sweet, downright _scrumptious."_

You start cracking up.

"I'm serious, man... You're going to have to start shoveling that shit into my mouth like a coal furnace, or a Hungry Hungry Hippo, or Kirby fighting fascism, cause my tummy's makin' the rumblies that only unidentifiable English sustenance can satisfy."

Your eyes are watering now, and you're practically wheezing into his shoulder. He has yet to break the flat deadpanning. 

"What I'm saying is I crave your _delicious, delectable_ crumbs. I want them in my mouth yesterday. Think that can be arranged?"

"I'll do my best," you mock-salute, catching your breath. 

"Great. I'm wide open."

It's hard to hold the fork still when he keeps _saying_ these things, but you manage. However, in the process a bit falls onto his shirt. He doesn't hesitate to lift it up and lick it off.

"Canh... leh iss... ambrosia go to waste. Don't judge."

"I would _never!"_

"Then by all means, feel free to fill up my gaping maw."

"Ah, hm… Don't like that."

"Just put it in me, man… Please? I'm at the begging stage now. Was that your plan? Because it worked."

"For Pete's sake, this was supposed to be one of those erotic romance scenes... Just take the confounded utensil and do it yourself."

"For what it's worth, I'm unironically aroused."

"Thanks," you sigh, slumping onto him. He starts playing with your hair with his free hand and goes to town fucking devouring the thing in minutes. You decide to stop caring and just bask in the affection amidst the cacophony coming from the veritable zoo under his shirt, rubbing it sweetly. He vocalizes his pleasure, so you keep it up.

He licks the plate clean once he's finished, then sets the lid on the table and kicks back, tracing the space around you.

"... _Fuck,_ that was good... I'll communicate my inner turmoil to a licensed professional more often if it means you'll keep the Pavlovian rewards coming."

"So you really liked it?" 

"Damn straight." 

You beam, and he ruffles your hair before smushing your face into his middle.

…

"Feels nice." 

"... I have a boner," is your muffled response.

"Yeah… Yeah, me too."

You jerk each other off, and then he fumbles around in the dark for a shitty takeout napkin to clean you both, thoughtful guy that he is. He stumbles off to wash his hands, then flops back onto the couch because you can't be assed to get up. You tug the couch blanket over and snuggle up atop him again, reclaiming your warm pillow. He wraps his arms around you with a content sigh, and you fall asleep like that.

 _Romance at its finest._


End file.
